Chapter 16

A nna slept fitfully and awoke in the morning feeling both energized and weary, if such a thing were possible.

Today was the day. Today they would reach Toulouse, the last known place where Avery’s regiment had fought before the treaty was signed. She could not and would not think that he might have died in Orthez or remained there without his regiment if he’d lived. She had to believe that Toulouse would hold the answer.

She thought she might be sick.

Ever since they had left Paris, Anna had looked at every man—soldier or commoner, it hadn’t mattered—they’d passed along the way or shared a dining room with or encountered on their way to their rooms. Every time, she’d looked to see if it was Avery. Each time, she had been disappointed.

The closer they’d gotten to Toulouse, the more men they’d passed along the way, and Anna’s emotions had been thrust back and forth from anxiety to despair with each encounter.

Breathe , she told herself firmly. You must breathe .

Mary had laid out clothes for her to wear today. The innkeeper’s wife had outdone herself, Anna thought as she fingered the fabric of the chemise and traveling gown that were freshly washed and pressed. The black dye of her traveling gown had faded, turning it a dismal shade of gray, but at least it was clean and not covered in mud and hay and who knew what else.

“Let me help ye with yer coiffure, Lady Anna,” Mary said once Anna had pulled on the clean clothing.

“Thank you, Mary,” Anna said, trying to quell her anxiety and sound cheerful.

A light rap at the door meant Sparks was there to collect their bags.

Mary opened the door. “Just in time, Sparks; the bags is ready.” She opened the door wide for Sparks to enter.

He tipped his cap to Anna. “Mornin’, me lady,” Sparks said.

“Good morning, Sparks,” Anna replied.

“Mr. Jennings says as soon as we break our fast, we can be on our way, if that be pleasin’ to ye.”

“It is, thank you,” Anna said. Breaking her fast wasn’t something she relished doing this morning, but needs must. She marched determinedly out the door, leaving Mary and Sparks to follow with the bags.

Her stomach was doing summersaults, her heart was pounding, she felt dizzy ...

Today was the day.

Today might be the day, she corrected herself as she headed to the dining hall, which was surprisingly busy this morning. She glanced around the room before all the male eyes that had begun looking at her made her even more uncomfortable than she already felt. One man in particular caught her eye. He was blond, like her ... Was it Avery? Her heart leaped into her throat.

No.

The man smirked at her and looked her up and down.

Disappointed, despondent, she turned away and continued on through the dining hall.

James stood when she approached the table where he was eating. “Good morning, Lady Anna,” he said.

Lady Anna . For him to be back to addressing her with such formality was another knife to the heart.

It was too much.

“Good morning, Mr. Jennings,” she replied as formally as he had. She wasn’t about to bring up the subject of his declaration to her, especially now. She sat and gestured to the serving girl, then ordered tea and toast. She’d learned that much French over the past several days.

The serving girl dashed off and quickly returned.

James finished his breakfast, and Anna nibbled at her toast, wondering if she might need to ask for some of the ginger Sparks probably still had shriveling up in one of his pockets somewhere.

Disgusting thought. She hoped it wouldn’t come to that.

After a torturous eternity that was really only about a half hour, they finished breakfast and were on their way to Toulouse. The blankets were mostly dry, thankfully, and Anna watched as Sparks loaded their baggage into a corner while James seemed particularly interested in fluffing up the straw in certain areas and making sure the blankets were tucked securely in place. Once everyone was settled in the wagon, Villard gave the reins a snap, and the poor horses responded.

Anna and James sat across from each other on opposite sides of the wagon, facing each other but not looking at each other—at least, Anna pretended not to be looking at James whenever he looked at her. Despite a few clouds that hovered, the rain they’d suffered through yesterday held off, thankfully.

The wagon wheels made too much noise for conversation, so Anna was left alone with her thoughts while sneaking glances at James’s somber expression. He seemed intent on watching the countryside as they rode past, which he hadn’t done before. Anna assumed it was so he could appear to be preoccupied.

The morning dragged along, Villard only stopping to rest the poor horses and then seeing to luncheon when they reached the town of Fronton.

As they traveled, Anna began to notice that the fields and even the fences around them increasingly appeared to have been trampled, cottages and buildings showed various levels of damage and destruction, and she realized they had to be nearing Toulouse and witnessing the aftermath of battle. They also passed many more groups of men, much like the ones she’d seen along the road the past few days and in the inn’s dining room this morning—two or three together, some on horseback but most walking along the road, their clothes dirty and torn, knapsacks on their backs, rifles in hand. Each group they passed eyed Villard’s wagon suspiciously, seeming to size them up, and Anna began to feel even more anxious. For the first time in their travels, she actually feared for their safety.

Villard said something over his shoulder to James, and James replied to him. “Villard says these men are mostly foreign mercenaries no longer necessary for the French to retain as soldiers,” James said to Anna in explanation.

Anna squeezed her eyes shut, as if to hide from the sense of danger she couldn’t help but feel, and once again, guilt flooded her. How was she to have managed dealing with mercenaries on her own? Thankfully, they continued onward relatively undisturbed, but Anna kept her eyes closed for the most part, trying to block the vision of the mercenaries from her mind. It was foolish, she knew, but she needed a respite from everything—even if only for a few minutes at a time.

Amid her thoughts, Anna heard galloping horses approaching them from behind, not unlike other horses she’d heard and had desperately tried to ignore. But this time, their wagon stopped abruptly, and her eyes shot open in time to see two men on horseback grab Villard’s horses’ harnesses and a third man—the blond man from the dining room this morning—aim a pistol directly at Villard.

Mary screamed. Anna froze, her heart beating like a frenzied bird within her chest.

“Sparks,” James said softly. “Now.” Without taking his eye off the third man, James reached under the hay behind him and retrieved a pistol Anna hadn’t known was there, vaguely recalling now how intent James had been on tucking the blankets around the hay. Likewise, Sparks carefully retrieved a pistol from the hay next to him. Both men cocked and aimed their pistols at the man who had aimed at Villard, startling him just enough for Villard to grab a musket that, unbeknownst to Anna, he’d stowed under his seat.

The two men holding the harnesses pulled out their own pistols.

James barked something in French at the blond man, and the man replied, then turned to aim his pistol directly at James.

James and the man began a rather heated dialogue that Anna wished dearly she could understand, and then Villard and the two men holding their team of horses joined in. It was a loud conversation that went on for what seemed an eternity to Anna, especially when the men sneered and pointed specifically at her .

She clutched at her throat, barely breathing, praying that these men would leave them in peace as the other mercenaries who had passed by them had done.

“Vat are zey talking about?” Villard surprisingly snapped in English. “Vat eez zis chambres hautes —upper rooms—zey keep mentioning?”

James replied in French to Villard, which frustrated Anna to no end. Upper rooms?

James kept talking to the blackguards while Anna sat in terror, waiting for someone to shoot someone and fearing they all would die because of her determination to find her brother.

“What is happening?” she whispered to James. “What upper rooms?”

James didn’t reply to her question. The men kept their pistols aimed at James, Sparks, and Villard. The discussion in French continued, and Anna could do nothing but hold her breath and offer up a silent prayer.

Finally, with his pistol still aimed at the first man, James shot a glance at Anna. “It would seem these fine gentlemen were sent specifically to thwart our attempt at arriving in Toulouse,” he said.

“Why?” Anna asked. “Who would care enough to do something like that?”

“They only knew the person who contacted them as someone sent from the upper rooms. They were to return to Paris with the, quote, ‘lady like a pearl’ named Anna. They knew it was you as soon as they spied you in Montauban.”

The first man snapped at James, and he turned and spat harsh words in French back at the man.

“Taking you back to the upper rooms will apparently make the man in the upper rooms happy,” James said. “They will be paid well if they accomplish their task.”

“What upper rooms?” Anna asked.

Her question seemed to suddenly enlighten James. “Upper rooms. Chambres hautes . Blast, blast, and blast!” he exclaimed. “One of the difficulties of war, treaties, and the like is the challenge of language. These villains were sent by von Oberhausen! Ober —‘upper’ in German—and, of course, haus is ‘house.’ I doubt these villains know enough German to make the distinction.”

“Von Oberhausen?” Anna cried, standing abruptly and losing her balance, which made all the men start toward her.

“Stay back, Anna,” James murmured, then he spoke to the men in rapid French.

“How much was von Oberhausen going to pay them?” she asked.

Dialog took place between the man and James. “He says, ‘More than you can afford.’”

“You’re a negotiator, James!” Anna exclaimed. “Do something!”

James shot Anna a glance that essentially said, “What do you think I’m trying to do?” With guns still pointed, he and the man set about arguing in French again. James would shake his head; the man would shake his head and gesture with his free hand. The other men took closer aim with their pistols, and Sparks and Villard followed suit.

Mary was curled up in a corner of the wagon, weeping, and Anna could do nothing. She had never felt so helpless, even after Papa had died. She shuddered. What if James didn’t prevail? What would happen to them?

“Anna,” James said quietly after what felt like an eternity. “Come to me, please.”

She stared at him in horror. He stared back at her, serious but earnest, as though his eyes were saying, “Trust me.”

Could she trust him?

What choice did she have? She had brought them all into this.

She swallowed hard and anxiously managed the few steps inside the wagon to James’s side.

He handed her his pistol. “Hold it steady,” he said.

She pointed it at the first man and tried not to shake. She knew enough about guns from life in the country to see that the pistol was cocked, ready to be used if necessary. That knowledge only made her shake more.

James said something to the men while raising his hands above his head in a gesture of trust, then reached into his breast pocket and removed his wallet. He took out all the bills inside and handed them to the man, who nodded at James in appreciation.

Anna was still highly anxious though. What if the men decided James’s money wasn’t enough? What if the mercenaries wanted to search all of them for everything they could find?

After a tense few minutes, during which the man counted the money, he conferred with his two fellows. Then, by some great miracle of Providence, they saluted James, released the team of horses, and turned in the direction from which they’d come and headed back toward Montauban.

James gave direction to Villard to continue onward toward Toulouse. Anna handed the pistol back to James and collapsed to the floor of the wagon as she tried to simply breathe.

Once the wagon had moved safely down the road and was well beyond the three men, James instructed Villard to halt at the side of the road.

Once the wagon had stopped, James rose to his feet and offered Anna his hand. “Come with me,” was all he said.

Anna, still in shock from what they’d just been through, obeyed.

It had been much too close a call for James. Somehow, he’d managed to keep his wits about him while facing those brigands, but just barely. He was used to sitting in fancy rooms and speaking eloquently with diplomats and sovereigns. This had been about immediate life or death if one made a misstep.

He grabbed Anna’s hand again once he’d lifted her from the wagon and strode into the clump of trees bordering the road, dragging her behind him until they were hidden from the others. Once there, he moved behind the biggest tree and pressed her against it before placing his hands on either side of her face and leaning toward her.

“James!” she gasped.

He couldn’t speak. Every instinct within him cried to sur-round her, protect her. He closed his eyes and pressed his forehead against hers, battling to slow his breathing. His heart raced. “Anna,” he murmured. It was all he could think to say. “Anna.”

Her arms came around him with tenderness—and he was lost. His lips sought hers, and he took his prize, taking and taking, unable to stop. Her hands gripped his back, and on some primal level, he recognized that she was giving as much as he was taking, so he cradled her face in his hands and softened his kisses, pressing them to her cheeks, her forehead, her chin, and then her full, delicious lips again.

“James,” she sighed.

“You’re safe, and that’s all that matters,” he whispered in her ear before nipping at her earlobe. “Whether we are fortunate to find Avery or not, you won’t have to return to your awful cousin or a place where you’re not welcome. You belong with me now.” He wrapped his arms around her now and held her, held her so tightly, wanting time to stop—right here, right now—with her safely in his arms and the feel of her lips upon his.

He didn’t know how long they remained thus. It was only the sound of someone tromping through the woods toward them—Sparks, by the sound of the voice calling after them—that he regained his senses.

Anna still held him.

“I will always be here for you, my Anna,” he said softly before backing slightly out of their embrace. “You have my heart; my entire being belongs to you. Had I lost you to those brigands—”

“Sir! There ye are!” Sparks said. “Me lady!” The man had the good sense to drop his eyes when he saw the two of them together. “We was worried when ye went off like that.”

“We’re fine; everything’s fine,” James said. He looked at Anna to make sure his words were true.

She nodded at him.

“Villard says we must be on our way if we’s to make it to Toulouse in time to find lodgings before the other travelers on the road.”

“We were about to return to the wagon,” James said, still looking at Anna. “Let the others know we will be there shortly.”

“Very good, sir,” Sparks said. Then he gave Anna a good, hard look to make sure she was truly well before retracing his steps out of the woods.

James reached over to caress her cheek with his hand. “If there is anything our encounter with those men taught me,” he said, “it’s that I love you completely. Were I in a lovely garden with violin music surrounding us and a bottle of champagne, I would ask you to marry me.”

“But we are not,” Anna said in a low voice, her eyes not sapphires now but the deep blue of the Channel they’d crossed at the beginning of their journey together.

“No, we are not,” he replied. “But I will ask you anyway: Will you be my wife and make me the proudest, most happy of men?”

“You are and always will be my hero,” she said. “I will gladly be your wife.”

It was several more minutes before James and Anna rejoined the others, for they got lost again in the rejoicing that occurred between them after their dangerous encounter and its joyous aftermath.

For the life of him, James could not remove his arm from around Anna once they were on their way again or move away from her. He was relieved that he had heeded the warnings of Monsieurs Durand and Villard before leaving Brive and had prepared Sparks beforehand in the event that they encountered robbers as they approached Toulouse. Relieved that the men they had encountered had been greedy but not malevolent by nature.

James had plenty of practice firing a weapon—most gentle-men did—but he’d never actually pointed a weapon at another human being before, and the thought that something like this might happen along the journey was altogether different from actually having it happen. He’d never before experienced how it would feel to look down the barrel of a gun at another man. He was exceedingly glad he had not chosen to serve in His Majesty’s army; he hoped he never had to point a gun at another man again. He was also grateful for the diplomacy skills he’d been able to develop the past few years.

Both skills had been necessary today.

A short while later, they finally, finally , arrived in Toulouse. Anna was ready to have this part of the journey over.

“Villard told me earlier that he’d heard there was a decent inn near the middle of the city,” James said to her. “I thought the inn, being more centrally located, might work to our advantage in the search for your brother.”

Anna nodded.

Their wagon lumbered down the main street of Toulouse toward the center of the city. Anna studied each man they passed along the way. She peered through the windows of the buildings and shops they passed, but her search was in vain.

Finally, Villard pointed to an inn a short way farther down the street. “ Le voilà ,” he said.

“ Oui ,” James said. “We are almost to the inn,” he said to Anna and the others.

Soon enough, Villard steered the horses and wagon into the small courtyard of the inn and brought them to a stop. He jumped down from his seat on the wagon and joined James and Sparks in hoisting Anna and Mary from the wagon. Then James quickly reached into his pocket and pulled out some bills and handed them to Villard, who looked to be planning to take the wagon and stay elsewhere in his own search for finding and buying healthy horses. “ Merci ,” James said.

The man tipped his cap in thanks. “ Merci, et bonne chance ,” he said, and then he returned to his wagon and left.

Bonne chance . Good luck, he’d said. Anna knew that much French.

Another city, another inn. But it was here that, if only they were exceedingly fortunate, they would get answers. Their journey had been more arduous than Anna could have ever imagined, but she now realized that searching a city the size of Toulouse, where thousands of troops had passed through and staged a fierce battle, was going to be their most difficult undertaking.

“Come,” James said to her. “Let’s settle into our respective rooms, and then we shall begin asking people for any information they might have about your brother.”

“Thank you,” Anna said softly. Merci, et bonne chance.

Good luck to them all.